


Upkatha

by Golden_Daughter



Category: Arjun Without a Doubt, Mahabharata - Vyasa, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Gen, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Daughter/pseuds/Golden_Daughter
Summary: Upkatha: Short story (Sanskrit)Scenes from the Mahabharata. Mostly focused on Arjuna.Chapter 1: Arjuna calling Devavrata "Father".Chapter 2: Abhimanyu decides to be his father's son.Chapter 3: Kunti's unfortunate encounter with the Sun God.





	1. Ch-1: Father

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I am trying to write some drabbles and ficlets in the Mahabharata universe. Feedback welcome.  
> This one is inspired by Arjuna's reaction to Bhishma's death where he states that he played on his grandsire's lap and called him father.

Bhishma Devavrata took a deep breath of the cool air. He had discharged all his duties for the day. As he approached the banks of the Ganga for his daily ritual _sandhyavandana_ , he felt content.

Having finished his evening ablutions, he was walking near the archery grounds when he heard the sound of arrows. Devavrata cocked his head to one side, listening. Who could be practicing archery at this time, when the Sun has nearly set?

Curiosity aroused, yet not wishing to disturb the intrepid archer, he turned and sat on one of the benches.

Sometime later, just as the Sun set, he heard the patter of footsteps, and soon he could see the silhouette of a young boy. Clearly, the child had noticed him, too, for he ran right into Devavrata’s lap.

With an indulgent smile, he let his grandson climb up onto his lap, rising an eyebrow at the filthy state of the boy’s clothes.

“Are you interested in archery, Arjuna? I could teach you to wield the bow better when you are a little older, would you like that?” Devavrata asked. Of Pandu’s five sons, Arjuna was a little hard to understand, for he had not shown interest in most childish games or other pass times, preferring solitude. He knew that Yudishtira was of a philosophical bent, that Bhima delighted in his strength. His ruminations were cut short by Arjuna’s lilting voice, “Can you please do that? I’d like it if you teach me _Dhanur-vidya, pitr._ ” He answered, locking his eyes with Devavrata’s earnestly.

_Pitr._   Father. His grandson had just called him Father. Smiling sadly at the eager child, he answered, “Arjuna, I am not your Father. Your Father was King Pandu, my brother’s son. I am your grandfather, child. You do me an honour, but-“

Arjuna looked crestfallen. Devavrata ruffled his hair. “Even though I am not your Father, I will be with you. It does not change what we have.”

He suddenly smiled brightly at Devavrata. “You can still teach me Dhanur-vidya even if you are my Pitamah? I can still play with you?”

Devavrata hugged his grandson close. “Of course!” He answered.

He looked conspiratorially at Arjuna. “I will start teaching you soon. But, on one condition. You must not tell anyone, not even your Mata. Not now.”

“If I don’t, you’ll teach me? Then I won’t!” He replied with determination.

As Devavrata nodded, Arjuna jumped into his arms, putting his arms around Devavrata’s neck. “Thank you, Pitamah! I will be a very good archer, you’ll see!”

As the years passed, and tales of Arjuna’s fame reached Bhishma’s ears, he’d look on this memory and remember his reply to the cherubic little boy he was. “I know you will.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abhimanyu decides to be his father's son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am not sure if Abhimanyu learning half the Chakravyuh formation in Subhadra’s womb is actually in the unabridged versions of the epic, but I have heard of the fable so many times that I absolutely had to write a drabble for that scenario. Apologies to any canon purist I might have offended.

I could hear the pounding of my own footsteps on the dry earth, so silent was the command tent. My uncles looked up at me as I ran in. “Uncle,” I hesitated. “What is it?” Uncle Bheem answered, his voice taut and eyes downcast, “Abhimanyu, they have formed their units into a _Chakravyuh_. There is no one here who can…” “But, uncle! Father-“ I interjected, before abruptly remembering that Father was protecting Uncle Yudhishtir.

“There is no one in our army. The _Chakravyuh_ cannot be breached. Son, you should stay with us. For your safety.”

I do not remember what I replied to that earnest appeal, for the years suddenly washed over me. I was not in the _ranbhoomi_ of Kurukshetra anymore.

 

Instead, I was in the haven of safety that was _Matr’s_ womb.

Back then, my life had been a series of firsts. It took forever for me to understand that the faint sounds I could hear was actually speech, that it was the sound of _Matr’s_ voice singing to me. I did not know how to reply, so I fidgeted, and was rewarded with _Matr’s_ laugh.

She then said the first coherent word I remember. “Arjun!” she called.

 

Instinctively, I knew that she was calling for someone important.

A few moments later, _Matr_ was excitedly telling the tale of my first movement. I heard laughter. “Shubhi!” he answered. “Slow down! I’m as glad as you are, but you’ll probably scare Abhimanyu into not moving again!”

Then, his voice grew quieter, slightly hesitant but proud as he put his hand on me. “ _Putr_ ,” he said. _Son._ This was my father! His name was the first word I remember. My father’s.

Weeks passed. Then, one day, when _Matr_ and _Pitr_ were settling into bed, she suddenly spoke. “Arjun, our son will be as great as a warrior as you, won’t he?” “Yes, of course! A greater warrior than me. He’ll be our pride, Shubhi. I know that.” There was a note of mirth in her voice as she replied, “Why don’t you tell me of a military formation? If our son is to be a great warrior, he should have a mother who could answer his questions, right?” Father laughed. “Are you sure you won’t fall asleep, Shubhi?” I don’t know what _Matr_ said to that, but _Pitr_ laughed again. “Fine. The _Chakravyuh_ is a formation of concentric circles…” I listened as intently as I could. I was to be a warrior. Someone who bring my father pride, I vowed to myself there and then.

 _Pitr_ had explained the intricacies of entering the _Chakravyuh_ and had just started to talk of how to exit the formation, when his voice suddenly tapered off. “You fell asleep, Shubhi!” He exclaimed, amused yet rebuking. “Sleepyhead, I should have known. Well, I and Abhimanyu will have plenty of time together, and I’ll him every bit of _Yudh-vidya_ I know.”

 

 _You did not have that time, Pitr_ , I thought with regret, even as I stood as tall as I could. I will break the Chakravyuh. The world will know of me as your son, _Pitr_. I am Arjun’s son. I will be the man you are. I know that if I need you, you will be there. I will see you again, _Pitr,_ as a brave heart in my own right


	3. Antargata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kunti's girlhood mistake.  
> Title means secret (Sanskrit)

Pritha could not stop thinking about Rishi Durvasa’s boon. She, Pritha, could summon any God at will! The very thought of it was intoxicating, and Pritha, in her curiosity, looked out for the earliest opportunity to use it.

Her long-awaited opportunity dawned one fine day. Her sakhi fervently advised her against her course of action, but Pritha was unfazed.

What is the worst that could happen? She thought.

(Oh, how she would rue that stubborn thought in the coming years…)

 

She was blessed with the divya dhristi of the Sun, as Surya Narayan himself blazed in his divine glory in front of her. The child still in her gloried as she chanted the mantra calling Surya deva to her.

Even as the last word left her lips, He stood in front of her. “O youthful girl of the flaring hips, I am yours to command. I shall give you a child as you desire.” A child? Pritha did not understand for a moment. Horrified understanding dawned on her the next second. The mantra. It was meant to summon a God to bequeath her a child. Pritha turned to the Deva. “My Lord,” she said tremulously, “I am a maiden just flowered, unwed still. I had called you out of childish curiosity, nothing else. Please forgive my innocent mistake, my Lord. Pray think of the dishonor that this would visit on my Father, my family and my people. I beg of you, Lord of the World, pray forgive a girlish fancy.” He looked unconvinced. His eyes are flashing when he says, “You dismiss me, then? The Gods will all laugh at me, foolish maiden! I cannot unleash my anger on you, but neither your family nor your people would be safe unless you give yourself to me.” Pritha shuts her eyes. When she opens them again, there is resigned determination in them.

“If you have a son in me, then they will not be harmed?” she asks. He nods. “Then I accede to you, my Lord, but on one condition. My son shall have divine protection, for I may not be able to give him any protection of my own.” “He shall have armor and earrings made of divine Amirtha.” Pritha nods. She shuts her eyes and lets him have his way with her, for what choice did she have?

Nine drawn-out months later, after hours of pain, Pritha brings her son into this world, alone and afraid, but for her Sakhi. Her head is spinning as she looks at the innocent baby in her arms, the baby she cannot keep. If she kept him, death was certain, for him as well as Pritha herself, for her adoptive father would never forgive so grievous a crime.

Tears spill from her eyes but she gently keeps the baby in a bassinet, covering him with her jewels. She lets the basket go, afloat on the Ganga, and turns her eyes on the Sun, far above, uncaring and unfeeling. She prays for the child’s safety, for his life, for there is nothing else she can do.

Finally, she turns her back on the floating basket. Grieved though she was, hers was a private grief. She would show it to no-one, and keep her head high, Pritha resolved. She would move on with her life.


End file.
